Tuesday, December 10, 2013

I was finding that the time between near-death experiences was not nearly as long as it should be nowadays.

And that being the case, I was staring straight at one more opportunity to die.

Samir had given us an even better hand up this time, stealing the coordinates of that specific security room and adjusting it according to time, or place. When he explained, I had to fight an immediate migraine. Apparently, the room's coordinates, like all high level security rooms there, changed time and place to prevent transporting. Sam added that into his equation.

It was a miracle it worked.

We got in no problem. It wasn't surprising that it landed us right back where we were--Sam fighting with a guard.

And me watching.

Everything froze, as those moments of near death do. My eyes darted around so quickly: to the door, the control panel with the blurry image of a church and village in the hills, the Buddha statue. And in my terror, I thought back to my lack in sidekick skills. I was extremely ungifted in every way, lacking any sort of skill that could have helped us out in that moment.

But I, as unlucky, uncoordinated and unprepared as I was to be a hero, I wouldn’t let anything get in the way of me attempting to help Samir. I barreled forward, fists ready to pummel the grey uniform until my hands were sore or useless.

I flew into nothingness and then into a wall; as my knees cracked on impact and I worked to get myself turned back in the right direction, my soundtrack was an orchestra of scuffles and the “whomp” of punches and kicks finding purchase in soft flesh.

When I finally managed to see what was going on, I found Samir kneeling on the floor, the guard unconscious with his arms, for all intents and purposes, ziptied behind his back.

“You got ‘im,” I sighed in relief, all 3 ounces of adrenaline zapped from my body.

“Well, if I hadn’t,” Sam breathed heavily, sitting for just a moment, catching his breath. “I feel safe saying you would have got him for me. Real fists of fury." He looked up at the control panel. "Second time's the charm."

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J.M. Blackman is a Language Arts teacheri and a feminist. She endeavors to review nearly everything she reads and is a happy wife. She's a SFF enthusiast, loves dark humor, and has an unhealthy need to protect the image of Batman.